Just a Thought
by Chippen Kitten
Summary: After all, she's never been the best at saying thank you. Messy dorks for your dash.


**so uh, yea did someone say indulgent garbage? I SURE DID**

 **enjoy!**

* * *

He's warm.

She's pressed against the wall again, pinned to it by her friendly neighborhood jackass, and the one thing she focuses on (that isn't about pummeling him into next week) is his body temperature. That and his uncanny ability to pop up when it's least convenient.

All this time, as they parted their separate ways and pretended the other didn't exist, she's seen him from the sidelines, watched him chase down monsters, and listened to him put up with Sammy's insane little Sunday church specials that she's done her best to get away from, and all this time, she's pretended that she doesn't care, that she doesn't miss him at all, and that no, his occasional trip was _not_ _cute_ whatsoever.

Now she's here.

And he's—

Fucking.

 _Purring_.

Of course, she might have herself to blame. She was walking around the area where he'd first had her against the wall—nothing like a faceful of rotting wallpaper to get a good conflict started, right? —When he'd pinned her down again.

Then again, they had made it their little game, trying to get the other to the wall first. They'd both been tied until now, and he's just scored another point.

But surprisingly, she's not complaining.

Suzie is.

She's writhing and angry and vying for Alice's attention, but she fights through it, tells Suzie to _shut the fuck up_ and _let her be in the moment_ without conflicting feelings for once, and, feeling more in the zone than ever, and flushing a deep grey, asks;

"B—" No, dammit, don't say his name, don't say his name, don't say his—"Bendy?"

 _Fuck_.

He flinches; she flinches. His head is resting on the curve between her neck and shoulder, and his breathing, no matter which way you twist it, is always heavy and labored. His hands loosely capture her wrists(can you even call it pinning if he's not even trying?), and his breath hitches when she says his name.

It's been so long since she did.

" _Bendy_ ," she repeats. She's reminded of a better time, one years from now, where she's chasing him down because he stole her halo. She visibly relaxes.

His head tilts up in her direction, and she finds it difficult to look where his eyes should be. The entire top half of his face is obscured with ink that never seems to stop dripping, but the motion of it implies that she's definitely got his attention.

"Mhm?" That's probably the closest he'd ever get to talking, the little mumble she can feel emitting from his chest. It sounds drained and quiet and oh, so tired, so her arms find a place below his shoulders. But it's only because she wants to push him away. Yup. Definitely.

"You're getting ink all over me."

She's not wrong; copious amounts of ink is dripping from his face and on to her arms and collarbone. It doesn't feel as bad as the rest of the ink here; instead the normal twinge warm ink has, his is cooler, thrums softly, but radiates a little heat to throw some balance into the mix.

It's...a nice change of pace. She laments that she wasn't able to appreciate it the first time they were like this.

But he gets this huge grin on his face that can only be described as pure, utter jackassery, and hugs her to his chest, squishing his face against the side of her neck, getting _more_ of the stuff on her skin.

He's still purring.

Typical.

She takes a moment think about how he's the only person who can go from a threat to her mental stability to a sopping wet goofball with a (rather dopey) cheshire grin, and sighs roughly.

She's hit with another rather fond memory, where a smaller version of her is ruffling him on the horns, to the left, where he's more sensitive. The little beam on his face could light up a room.

The grin she then accumulates can be found next to the dictionary definition of chucklefuckery.

Her right arm abandons its former home to sneak behind his head, just a brush away from the base of his neck. He doesn't even seem to notice, what with how content he looks. His smile is relaxed, a huge improvement from the stiff excuse for a grin before.

Delicately, she reaches over and strokes the valley between his horns.

He gives a false start, his shoulders tense and then he _rumbles_ ; it's a near _growl_ , deep and low in his chest, his grip on her loosening as he turns into a pleased little pile of docile ink. They both lower themselves to their knees, his head never moving from its newfound home in the curve of her neck.

He breathes heavily into her shoulder when she moves up to the summit of his left horn, and a breathy whine pours out of his chest. He nuzzles her neck affectionately and his arms come around to pull her close to his side.

This is...nice, she decides, twitching and fidgeting amongst Suzie's protests of displeasure. She tells Suzie to get over it, and face the fact that no matter what they were trying to build for themselves, Alice needs a break. Just a little time to stop the fighting, the incensed anger, to stop trying to achieve the different wants of two people and just exist in the moment.

She's only been given that chance once, when she and Bendy (sort of) reconciled, and she doesn't care if it makes her selfish or greedy; she wants more. She's not afraid to admit it to herself. What else can she say?

So, against all the odds, and reeling in Suzie's silence (because she never shuts up) she adjusts in her seat, finds the breath she was holding released, and rests the right side of her jaw on his forehead.

He doesn't say anything, most likely because she hasn't paused the motion of her hand, and instead lets out a little huff of appreciation. It makes her feel as relaxed as the smile on his face.

 _Thanks_ , is what she wants to say. "You're insufferable," is what she huffs out instead, her unoccupied hand tightening ever so slightly in its grip.

His gaze picks itself up to glance at her, and she can already tell what he's saying in his head by the curve of his mouth.

 _You're still smilin'._

"Yeah," she sighs, not even bothering to hide the soft little grin teasing her lips. Her free hand moves from below his shoulder to tentatively cup his face, and she doesn't have to look to see that his grin is wide and genuine. "I guess I am."

* * *

 **bendalice needs more love please and thanks, these two are dorks and need better treatment**

 **this was based off some Good Wholesome Art on tumblr featuring these two and cuddles, so yea**


End file.
